


Comfort the Afflicted

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angels, Archangels, Christmas Shopping, Gen, Healing, Humor, London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Sandalphon does not approve of Christmas shopping.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52





	Comfort the Afflicted

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Утешение страждущих](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313301) by [rat_not_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rat_not_cat/pseuds/rat_not_cat)



Aziraphale obediently waited for the pedestrian lights before crossing, automatically avoiding the man yelling at people to stop doing their Christmas shopping and repent – honestly, where _did_ he get the energy? – and headed down Oxford Street. A few little luxuries for the season, something nice to nibble on while he watched the Queen's speech, and one or two silly things as stocking stuffers for Crowley's present and he was _done_. He was idly wondering if any demons actually wore stockings, or if nylons just went up _Ffssst_ in Hell when Sandalphon stepped out of the crowd, right in front of him.

"Oh, sh-Sandalphon," Aziraphale said, trying for a pleased smile and achieving what felt like a worried, guilty grimace. It really was unfair. He hadn't _done_ anything. He hoped. "How are you?"

"Just perfect, as the Almighty made me," Sandalphon said. His smile was, as always, mildly threatening.

"Jolly good. Well, I'm in a bit of a rush –"

"These humans, Aziraphale. Don't they seem –"

"Happy? Busy? Tootling along with their lives?" Aziraphale said hopefully. Maybe he could tootle along too.

"Filled with greed, avarice and consumerism when they should be filled with reverential awe in the Advent season?" Sandalphon suggested. "What are you going to do about it?" His eyes fixed on the bag in Aziraphale's hands. "Are you going _shopping?_ "

"Um. Yes?" Aziraphale said, sheltering behind the ironically expensive designer fabric shopping bag silkscreened with _Be an Angel, Save the Planet_ that Crowley had given him. "To, er, rein in their worst impulses of course."

"I suppose you're buying _food_ ," Sandalphon said, disgust in his voice. "You do know how the humans dispose of the residue of what they eat?"

"Well –" Aziraphale said.

"I hope you –"

"There _are_ limits to how much anyone would want to blend in," Aziraphale said, feeling sure that his face was not pink just because of the cold. Could the day possibly get any worse than discussing toilet matters with an archangel? He saw a weeping girl staggering up the pavement, clearly in need of comfort and someone to minister to her. Oh, wonderful. It could. He looked between the girl and Sandalphon's disapproving face and –

Sandalphon looked very surprised as Aziraphale sidestepped and the girl ended up flinging herself against him instead, sobbing out a barely comprehensible tale of woe about ill parents and cruel landlords and, although Aziraphale couldn't be quite sure, possibly a sadistic boyfriend as well. Sandalphon looked at her crying all over his immaculate coat and seemed to visibly waver between shaking her off in visceral horror and offering some sort of comfort. Finally he seemed to remember that spreading peace and goodwill was technically something he should be doing, especially when another angel was watching, and he gingerly patted her on the back.

"There, there," he said. "It's all right. Your misery is really quite temporary, you know, in the greater scheme of things."

The girl raised her face to the sky and howled dramatically, "Oh, help me, God!" before burrowing back into his shoulder.

Aziraphale felt it was really very well done. Especially as Sandalphon's face at once changed to one of more genuine concern.

"One of ours," Sandalphon whispered loudly. He stroked the girl's curly hair. "Be at peace, daughter. You are well; the illnesses affecting your aged parents have been lifted. Go thou, and rejoice."

The girl staggered quietly out of his arms, looking remarkably dazed, and propped herself against a shop window a few yards away. Sandalphon directed a smug look at Aziraphale.

"That's how you do it. What _you_ should be doing. Comforting those in torment, healing the ill –"

"I'll say," Aziraphale said, looking at her. "You've made her immune to all diseases currently known and a few that won't develop for a century or two."

"It's better to give 150% than to be substandard. In fact 150% is the new standard, didn't you read Gabriel's latest briefing?"

"Oh! Yes! Well, um. I'm _reading_ it. It's not exactly _brief_ , is it?"

Sandalphon gave him a pitying look, and shook his head.

"Do your job, Aziraphale. Heal the sick, guide humanity, and – do your limited best not to indulge in things like _shopping_."

There was a crack of lightning, a smell of ozone, and he was gone. Aziraphale sighed and looked over at the girl. Her skin was glowing, her hair was impossibly shiny and she looked terribly cheerful. She was also flipping through Sandalphon's wallet.

"I thought you were giving this up, Jess?"

"Everyone needs a few quid more at Christmas, don't they? And he looked like he was being a right prick to you, Mr F."

"Do try to be good, dear," Aziraphale said and reached out to pat her shoulder, carefully staying out of pickpocketing range.

She grinned and dived back into the crowds, looking for the next mark. Aziraphale felt a warm glow at the thought of Sandalphon's confusion when he looked for his wallet and trotted down Oxford Street, mind happily back on his shopping.


End file.
